the things we lost
by saveclarkegriffin
Summary: She comes in on a Tuesday, covered in blood. character death. season 2 spoilers.


Kara walks in on a Tuesday. Covered in dirt, blood dripping off of her onto the stone floor. Her clothes are in rags. They don't question how she got in, though they should, instead they only stand in a half circle around her with questioning looks and half out stretched arms.

"He's dead," are the only words she says.

They don't need to ask to know who _he_ is.

Simmons leads Kara away, back towards the lab where she washes off the blood that isn't hers and gives her a set of clothes.

Nothing changes in the base that day, not much anyway. They are quieter, wearier.

He was not a good guy. He was not on their team.

He is dead.

This is not a victory.

Night falls.

They sleep.

At 2 am, they awake to sirens screaming and the base shaking around them.

Their end goal is a common one, racing up the cargo hold of the plane towards the cage, throwing open the door.

She is not asleep. She is not lost in one of her nightmares that usually shake the plane or the base. Instead, she is sitting on the ground, legs curled to her chest, choking backs sobs with her hand pressed to her mouth. She doesn't look up or acknowledge their presence. She doesn't seem to know how badly she's making everything shake.

Simmons and May step forward, cautiously, May reaching her hand out towards the trembling Skye.

"Sedate me," Skye gasps through her hand, looking up at them and finally feeling the shockwaves flowing through the walls.

"Please, sedate me," she gasps again.

May turns to Simmons and nods. Simmons runs towards the lab.

May crouches down next to Skye, wrapping her arms tightly around the younger girl, trying to quell to shockwaves flowing from her. Skye only curls in further on herself. May holds her tighter.

"I can't-"she gasps again, "I can't make it stop."

"I know," May murmurs, running a hand through Skye's hair, "I know."

Simmons returns minutes later, holding a syringe.

"This is a mild sedative," she explains softly, "It won't put you to sleep, but it will make you drowsy enough to stop the shaking."

Skye only nods, holding out her arm and flinching slightly when the needle hits her skin.

Almost immediately, the shaking begins to lessen. The shockwaves grow less forceful, and the plane stops rocking. Skye's grip on her own legs grows weaker, and she sinks into May's arms. Instead of gasping breaths, she starts to let out quiet sobs.

"I'm sorry," she cries into May's arms, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay to be upset, Skye," May soothes as Skye's cries grow louder, then quiet into silent tears.

They sit there the whole night. The whole team sits there, crowded around the entrance to the cage, acting as silent guards. They don't speak, the only sounds is that of Skye's quiet crying.

When the sun rises and the rest of the base gets back to work, they rise also, stretching their cramped legs and passing whispers about work and coffee. May helps Skye into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and smoothing her hair back.

"Go to sleep," May whispers, before rising off the bed.

Skye follows her with her eyes, but May only walks to the other side of the cage places herself in the metal chairs.

"Go to sleep," she repeats.

…

Skye wakes up the next morning with a headache and a pain in her stomach. Then she remembers.

She clenches her fists before remembering the feeling of her bones breaking and uncurling them, sending a jolt into the plane and causing May to turn in her chair.

May watches as she rises, and passes Skye a bowl of cereal a glass of juice on a tray.

"I volunteered to inventory his things," May says, "I think you should join me."

Skye starts to protest, but May cuts her off.

"I think it will help you. You need closure."

"Closure," Skye repeats, "Yeah, okay."

…

An hour later Skye is sitting on the floor of his bunk while May places plain black pants and shirts into boxes. She sits curled up against the bed, trying not to focus on any aspect of the bunk, trying hard not to concentrate as May packs away his life in boxes.

May is watching her from the side as she folds away shirts and pants. She pulls an old academy sweatshirt of a drawer and Skye makes an involuntary sob. Instead of placing in the box, May places carefully on the bed next to Skye's head. Slowly, Skye reaches up behind her and pulls the sweatshirt into her arms, burying her face in it.

It's been far too long for it to smell like anything like him, but it was his, so she buries her face in it deeper and lets the tears fall. When she's dried her tears, she looks up to find May staring at her. Wordlessly, May hands over a small black box.

"For you," she says.

She takes the box with great care, and the implications of this last gift weigh on her heart. She flips the box open.

Inside rests a thin silver chain with a small symbol, she would guess Chinese. She holds it out to May.

"It's the Chinese symbol for protection," May whispers.

She closes the box, holding it to her chest along with the sweatshirt. Tears build up behind her eyes again, and she struggles to keep them in.

After May packs the last box, she goes back to the cage. Lying down on her bed, she pulls the sweatshirt over her head and wraps her arms tight around herself. The tears slip down her face and onto the pillow. The black box she places under her pillow.

…

Later, when May opens the cage door to tell her that dinner is ready. She doesn't bother with her shoes or her hair or even trying to make her eyes seem less red. She pads down to dinner in her socks and curls up in one of the chairs across from May, waiting for the others to join.

Kara comes to sit next to her.

"This is for you," she says, "I couldn't- I couldn't get him out. This is all that's left."

Kara is holding out a thin leather case, and Skye can't help but remember the last time someone held out a case like this to her.

"He always carried it. I don't know why. He wanted you to have it, though. His last words-"

"Don't," Skye cuts her off, "I can't-"

"Skye," she says quietly, "That was his last word."

Skye meets her gaze. Kara stares back with teary eyes.

"Thank you," Skye says after a long pause. She curls her fingers around his old S.H.I.E.L.D badge and takes a deep breath.

"Thank you."

…

Years later, Skye is buried with that badge in her hands. Her gravestone reads her name, the date she was dropped off at St. Agnes, and the day she died. Below that is a small bronze plaque that had been part of her will.

"It's fitting," Kara says, to the men standing next to her. Both dark skinned, one sporting scars like hers.

"They were always meant to be buried together."


End file.
